


Bombshell Blonde

by ilokheimsins



Series: Kingsman:  The Secret Servicing [2]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Harry's control is basically non existent when he doesn't prepare, M/M, basically smut with some stripping involved, secretly a stripper! eggsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-04 00:41:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4120255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Harry's birthday, Gwaine is a terrible friend, and Eggsy's confident he's got the best present of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I've titled something with this before but I can't find it, so I'm thinking I may have hallucinated that.
> 
> I would also like you all to know that the idea of Eggsy as a stripper distracted me at work today because I had to actually plan out his routine in my head so that it made physical sense and also went along with the music.
> 
> You should also go listen to the songs, which are "Bombshell Blonde" by Owl City and "Bad Girlfriend" by Theory of a Deadman.
> 
> I headcanon both of these for Eggsy.

“Please welcome to the stage, our very own Bombshell Blonde as the perfect Bad Girlfriend!”

***

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this,” Harry says petulantly as they wait for Bors and Bedivere.

“Because,” Merlin replies without bothering to look up from his tablet, “It’s the first time we’ve had all agents in London at the same time and it’s your birthday.”

“Exactly,” Harry says.  “It’s my birthday, so I should pick the activity.”

Merlin looks up at that and his expression is flatter than Harry’s hopes that he’ll ever get his bunny slippers back.

“You can argue with Gwaine then,” Merlin says primly and goes back to his tablet.

“Besides, Eggsy isn’t even going,” Harry sniffs.  “Even Roxy is here.”  He nods at the young woman, who’s talking rapidly with her uncle.

Bors and Bedivere finally stumble out of HQ, both looking slightly more rumpled than Harry remembers them being an hour ago.

“Sorry about that,” Bors says, “Got a bit caught up.”

“Justin, Kingsley, you will both be sanitizing any surfaces your naked skin touched,” Merlin says without pause and finally flicks his tablet off.  He straightens his glasses and takes a quick headcount of the agents in front of him.

“Alright then, we’re off.”

***

Harry stares up in horror at the sign pronouncing _Le Beau Danseuses_ in glowing neon.  Roxy has already abandoned the group in favor of flirting with the bouncer.  She comes back over a minute later, takes one look at Harry’s face and sighs.

“It’s just a club,” She says.

“It’s a strip club,” Harry says stiffly.  “I was under the impression that we were going to a regular club.  One that involved dancing.”

“This one has dancing,” Gwaine pipes up, “You just ain’t the one doing it.”

“Harry, come on,” Roxy urges.  “We won’t be able to get a good seat if you dally too long.”

“Yes, come on, Harry,” Merlin says with a smirk and Harry wishes for a moment he could act upon his urge to strangle his best friend.

“Come on, Harry, old chap, it’s just a bit of fun.  George thought it’d be good for you,” Kingsley prompts and somehow, between them all, they manage to wrangle Harry through the door and up the stairs.

Roxy, having gone ahead, waves at them from where she’s snagged a seat right in front of the stage, on a large circular couch.  The other agents settle themselves in and Merlin looks expectantly at Harry, who’s still reeling from the fact that George saw fit to bring him to a strip club for his birthday.  He lowers himself onto the couch and steels himself for what is likely going to be a long night of embarrassment.

***

Six or seven or possibly eight (he lost track three drinks ago) drinks in, Harry has his jacket off and his tie loosened and he’s feeling much more charitable towards George.  It helps that all the dancers have been beautiful in an athletic manner and very comfortable with flaunting themselves in a way that oozes confidence.  It’s quite a sight better than the seedy little hovels with dancers who were all but dead inside.

The announcer, quite attractive in his own right, smiles bright under the stage lights as he shouts for applause for the latest dancer, a Miss Candy Hearts, and then he looks directly at Harry.

“Tonight,” He says, his voice booming across the club via the microphone, “We have a very special guest.  Mr. Harry Hart here is going to be fifty!  With a half century under his belt, we’ve got a very special surprise for him.  Without further ado, please welcome our very own Bombshell Blonde as the perfect Bad Girlfriend!”

He waves to the stage with a dramatic flourish and then backs away.  The lights cut out and plunge the entire club into darkness.  Harry leans over Merlin to hiss, “George what did you do,” at Gwaine.

The man shakes his head and holds up his hands, “This isn’t on me.”

The music starts up then, a guitar riff accompanied by a solid drumbeat, and the lights flash up on stage to center on a figure with his back towards them.  There are two men, significantly larger, on either side of him and each has a hand on the small of the center figure’s back.  He’s wearing trousers that look painted on and an oversized hoodie that says bombshell on the back.  The figure sways his hips to the beat, low and easy, before spinning with the first line.  He flashes a cheeky grin and there’s something so familiar about that smile, but Harry can’t quite put his finger on it, what with the alcohol and the lights and the sunglasses the man is wearing.

_Up on stage, doing shots_

He mouths the words as he goes, tearing the sweater off with a slick move to reveal a smooth chest and pierced nipples.  One of the other men pours a shot down his stomach and leans in to lick it off the undulating dancer.

_Dance with guys from out of town_

Harry’s mouth goes dry as he watches the larger men run their hands down the smaller man’s stomach and grind in.  It seems odd the way the dancer looks to be watching Harry, his smirk growing ever wider as he thrusts his crotch forward and ripples forward just in time for the next line.

_Mess with her, she’ll fuck you up_

He shoves the other two dancers away and makes his way to the pole. The lights flash off the words ‘bad girlfriend’ stamped across his arse in silver as he starts in on the pole, spinning around it with ease and using it to prop himself as he slowly lowers himself onto his heels, thrusting his hips into the air as he sinks lower and lower. His oil slicked body gleams under the light and Harry watches the flash of the nipple rings as the figure comes to rest on the floor, his bent knees really all they can see of him.

He spreads his legs wide and comes rolling off the floor, glasses off and a wicked smile on his lips.

“Oh my god,” Roxy says from his left.

“Oh my word,” Merlin says.

“That’s Eggsy,” George says.

“Holy shit,” Justin says.

Harry remains silent in shock as Eggsy bends forward to get his hands on the floor so he can slink forward, all animal grace and promises of filthy sex in his eyes.  Someone from the side of the stage hollers and waves a bill towards the stage.  Eggsy changes direction and crawls towards him and the movement is all luxurious sexual promise and it does terrible, terrible things to Harry’s control.  They all watch as Eggsy leans down and plucks the bill up with his teeth, his eyes trained on Harry all the while.  Then he slides his knees forward until they’re touching the edge of the stage and rocks back onto his heels.  He runs his hands across his mouth to snag the bill and then pushes his hands down his chest, rolling his hips with the motion.  His fingers catch on the nipple rings and he throws his head back, his mouth open on a gasp.

The club goes wild at that.  Eggsy spins around on his knees, a fluid move that brings his arse into sharp repose under the lights and Harry can’t look away to gauge the reactions of the other agents.  Somehow, in the flurry of motion, Eggsy’s managed to tuck the bill into the waist of his trousers.  Eggsy rises to his feet, arse in the air and nearly bent forward in half before rolling all the way up.  He tosses a look over his shoulder, one hip cocked, and winks.

Harry is about a thousand percent sure that whatever happens next is going to kill him.

_Red thong, party’s on_

Eggsy tears the trousers off and there’s a line of scarlet red running across the top of his arse before it delves between his cheeks and disappears.  When he stalks towards the pole, there’s a flash of red from under his arse, which flexes with every step.  Then Eggsy bends over to grab the pole and levers himself up and around it, giving them all an eyeful of the way the bright fabric barely covers his cock, the barest peek of his balls pushing the fabric up.

“Oh my god,” Roxy breathes.  Harry doesn’t have the wherewithal required to make sure she’s doing alright.  The way Eggsy’s hips are moving on stage as he sways in lower and lower arcs against the pole is sucking up all his attention.  Eggsy leans backwards until his face is in view and he licks his lips, the spit shiny under the lights.

He goes back up the pole hips first, his torso bent back until his legs are straight, and then straightens up to hook a leg around the pole.  Eggsy uses it to turn back around with a movement of his hips that has Harry swallowing thickly.

Eggsy drops into another crawl, ignoring all the calls and bills aimed at him in favor of going to the edge of the stage and practically pouring himself off it.  The lights follow him as he stalks his way to their couch and his smile glitters under the brightness.

Roxy and Merlin shift away immediately when it becomes clear what Eggsy’s about to do.  The young agent slides his knees onto the couch and gets a hand around Harry’s tie before following the music again.

_She likes to shake her ass, she grinds it to the beat_

And Eggsy does, somehow managing to flip himself around without hitting anyone or anything so that he can press his arse back against Harry’s crotch.

_She likes to pull my hair_

He gets a hand in Harry’s hair and pushes his head back onto Harry’s shoulder.  Harry can hear the way Eggsy’s panting from the exertion and very carefully doesn’t think about how he would very much like to fuck Eggsy on the nearest flat surface, public space be damned.

“Hands on my hips,” He whispers and Harry automatically obeys, his hands settling on the jut of muscle.  The skin under his hands is hot and the muscles shift as Eggsy continues to roll his hips.

_I like to strip her down_

One of Eggsy’s hands guides Harry’s under the thong, for the barest of seconds before he’s somehow off Harry’s lap and heading back towards the stage, pushing himself onto it in a move that showcases the lean line of his back, the dimples above his arse, and the dips of his muscles.

_No doubt about it, she’s a bad, bad girlfriend_

Eggsy has a hand around the pole before the line is halfway over and uses it to drop to his knees so he can grind up against the line of steel.  He turns his head to the side so the entire club can see the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth and pulls them out obscenely to run them across his lips.

_Man she’s hot and fixed to be_

He keeps rotating around the pole, his hips moving in figure eight motions that every so often give them a peek of the line of scarlet running between his arse cheeks.  When he’s facing forward again he grins cheekily and keeps spreading his legs until he’s in a perfect split.  Eggsy leans forward until he’s almost flat against the ground, his eyes locked on Harry and, Christ, Harry is never going to be able to watch Eggsy stretch without wanting to fuck the boy against the wall.

Eggsy keeps moving his torso forward and pulls his legs together behind him so he can push himself up until his back is a tight curve.  He rolls back against the pole and gets himself against it, with his hips shunted forward, and gives a few more thrusts with the final beats of the song.

_She’s a bad, bad girlfriend_

He rips off the thong, Roxy squeaks, and the lights go dark before Eggsy’s hand clears his crotch.

The club is silent save for the last hum of bass in the air and then the lights come back on, temporarily blinding everyone.  When the spots clear, Harry can clearly see the scrap of red dangling neatly off a hook high up the pole.

The tension in the room explodes, people clamoring for more and shouting about wanting to see everything and the announcer has to call in several bouncers in order to control several of the more drunk and enthusiastic patrons (who have all but climbed onto the stage).

Harry continues to gape at the scene and tries desperately to remember if he’s been injected recently with anything hallucinogenic.  Merlin helpfully shuts his jaw.

“Oh my god,” Roxy says again.

Finally, the announcer manages to get the next act going and Harry still hasn’t fully processed what just occurred.  By the silence from the agents around him, he judges that they haven’t quite managed either.

“Sir,” A voice pipes up somewhere behind him.

Harry whips around to see the announcer holding a gold voucher with the words _Bombshell Blonde_ written on it in elegant curls.

“The rest of your birthday present,” He says and looks down meaningfully at the ticket.  “You will need to present this to Willem in order to go into the back.”

He points towards a man who’s doused in shadow near the back of the club and Harry takes the ticket, still in a daze, and heads in the direction of the man.

Willem smirks at him as he approaches, “He’s somefin’, ain’t he.”

“That,” Harry clears his throat so it doesn’t sound quite as hoarse, “That he is.”

“Voucher?”

Harry hands over the ticket and Willem motions him through the curtain.  As the curtain falls shut behind him, Harry realizes he should have probably asked where he was going.  Doors line the corridor and, upon closer inspection – which nearly requires to Harry to put his nose against the door, what with how dark it is – he notices that each door has a plate on it that refers to the dancer it belongs to.

After that, it takes him barely a minute to find the one with Bombshell Blonde on it, in the same elegant script as the voucher.  He stands there for several minutes and just before he can bring himself to knock, the door swings open to reveal Eggsy, still gleaming with oil and with a new red scrap of fabric barely covering him.

“You comin’ in or not, birthday boy?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally after a very very long time - the payoff!
> 
>  
> 
> (I kinda copped out. Just a teeny bit. But y'know how sometimes you're so excited about something and then the excitement just abruptly dies for no apparent reason? Yeah. This fic.)

Eggsy is leaning up against the door in a way that pulls his flank tight and emphasizes how trim his waist is.  Harry doesn’t trust his voice so he nods and Eggsy grins.  He reaches out for Harry’s tie and Harry allows himself to be lead in by the fabric, which has never seemed as important as it does in this singular moment.

“See,” Eggsy says.  “I used to dance here, back when we needed a bit more money for Daisy’s baby formula, yeah?  It’s a bit posh and they make sure no one gets grabby.  Pretty nice place.  So when I heard Gwaine was thinkin’ ‘bout takin’ ya here, I called in a favor.”

He keeps his eyes trained on Harry all the while, expertly moving backwards towards the large bed that Harry can see.  And then Eggsy licks his lips and all Harry can focus on is the movement of that spit slick, so very pink mouth.

“Bombshell blonde,” Harry asks and he could smack himself with his ineloquence.  There’s a whole sentence in there somewhere, but Eggsy’s on the bed and tugging Harry in by his tie.

“Yeah, ‘m blonde and ‘m a bombshell, got the tits and arse for it,” He says and releases Harry’s tie so he can squeeze his pecs.  He hooks his thumbs into the rings and gives them a light tug that gets a shiver running through him.  Harry stares at the silver loops and Eggsy smirks.

“There’s a song too, y’know.  Ye should listen to it sometime, way more tellin’ now that ‘m a Kingsman,” Eggsy says nonchalantly.

“Ye can touch, y’know,” He sweeps a hand in a vague gesture at the room.  “Tha’s what all this shit is for.  Ye gonna fuck me or nah, Harry Hart?”

Harry remains silent, quite certain that his voice has rather deserted him.

Eggsy shrugs, his face the very picture of innocence, and topples Harry over to straddle his hips, “Well, ye gotta celebrate yer big fifty in style an’ tha’s ‘zactly what we’re gonna do.”

He leans over and presses something just above Harry’s head.  Music flares to life and Eggsy rolls back to push his hands into the air, hips undulating scant millimeters above Harry’s cock.

“Firs’ lesson o’ dancin’,” Eggsy says silkily, “hips in a figure eight.”

He demonstrates, dropping and rolling in time with the music, before going back to smoothly thrusting his hips forward.  Harry watches, transfixed, as Eggsy does it again.

“Second, hands on skin.”

He brings his arms down, running his arms down his neck and chest before they come to rest between the cut of his hips.  Eggsy leaves them there for a moment before pushing them down his thighs, his thumbs snagging on the line of the new thong he’s wearing.  The scrap of fabric goes easily, revealing Eggsy’s cock as it slides down his thighs.

“Third, dance like yer bein’ fucked by the fittest damn gentleman this side of the century.”

And then he grins that cheeky, wicked smile and all at once, Harry’s faculties come back online.

He growls and surges up to catch Eggsy in a hard kiss, arousal and something he might describe as fondness burning through his veins.  Eggsy moans and kisses back with all the enthusiasm of someone his age.  He sucks at Harry’s tongue and whimpers when Harry retaliates by biting and tugging at Eggsy’s bottom lip.

“Fuckin’ god, ‘Arry please,” Eggsy begs and Harry runs a hand down the younger agent’s chest, finally, finally getting his fingers around those damn rings and pulling.

Eggsy’s hips buck up and he squirms, whining noisily as Harry continues to tug.

“God, fuckin’ fuck, slag it up, ‘Arry, take this shit off,” He says and successfully distracts Harry’s onslaught by shoving his hands into Harry’s shirt and ripping it open.  Buttons go pinging away, potentially lost forever, and Harry can’t find it in himself to care.  How can he, with the sight of Eggsy leaning down to lick straight down his chest to appease him?

“I hate this thing,” Eggsy mutters as he practically tears Harry’s belt off.  Harry mourns the belt just a tad as Eggsy flings it away, but he reasons that a belt will be much easier to find than buttons, so he doesn’t think about it too much.  It’s quite hard to, what with the way Eggsy is eyeing his cock with laser focus intensity.

“God tha’s nice,” Eggsy whispers reverently.

“I think you should fuck me with this,” Eggsy says carefully and then looks up beseechingly.

Harry’s brain shorts out again and he stares down at Eggsy, who blinks docilely, like he doesn’t know what his words are doing to Harry.  Then he smiles slow and filthy and moves forward to press an open mouthed kiss to the side of Harry’s cock.

“It’s yer birthday, y’know,” Eggsy says.  “Ye should do what ye want.”

“A gentleman doesn’t presume,” Harry says on autopilot because he’s fixated by the way Eggsy’s lips are sliding down his cock, sheening with spit and precome.

“Good thing I ain’t one of those then,” Eggsy says and trails his nose back up Harry’s cock before sucking the head into his mouth.

“Perhaps I could presume a little,” Harry manages to say.  “It is my birthday after all.”

Eggsy grins around his cock and whatever he says is muffled, but the vibrations of the words travel straight through Harry’s cock and he has to pull Eggsy off and tighten a hand around the base to stave off orgasm.

“One more time, perhaps this time without your mouth full,” Harry says.

“I said, tha’s more like it,” Eggsy repeats.

He goes back down and lets just the head of Harry’s cock rest in his mouth, eyes trained on Harry’s face.  On Harry’s shaky nod, he slides down, tonguing the vein on the underside as he goes.  Harry threads his hand into Eggsy’s hair, tugging slightly.  Eggsy moans and when Harry does it again, a shiver wracks his frame.  Eggsy pulls off and when he speaks again, his lips brush against the sensitive head of Harry’s cock.

“Wanna see somefin’ real cool?”  He smirks and winks up at Harry.

“Oh?  A birthday present of sorts?”

“Yeah, imma show you how we do it south of the river,” Eggsy says.  He presses palm to the underside of his jaw, his thumb and middle finger cradling his jawline as he massages it lightly.

“I must say, this definitely isn’t what I expected.  Some new technique from your generation then,” Harry informs him, amusement filtering through him as Eggsy gives him a halfhearted glare for the statement.

“Shut up, ye ain’t seen nofin’ yet,” He says and then he opens his mouth and swallows Harry all the way down.  There’s a loud noise of surprise from Harry as Eggsy squeezes down with his tongue and his throat and then switches to rumbling low in his throat.

It takes him less than a minute to get Harry off, the man swearing all posh as he does so.  His impeccable control even breaks enough that his hips try to thrust upwards but Eggsy holds him down with his arms locked over them.  He pulls off, drooling messily as he does so, and slinks back up to nuzzle at the soft curve of Harry’s throat.

“How you likin’ my generation now?”

Harry’s laugh is breathy and too winded to be a real one, but Eggsy counts it anyway.

“Gonna collect on the rest of your prezzie?” He asks after a moment.

“Mmm.  Though I do hope you’ll give me a moment, my dear boy.  I’m not quite as young as I once was.  I’m turning fifty today, which is quite old,” Harry says.

Eggsy rises up until he’s on his knees, his cock bobbing and drooling over Harry’s stomach as he slides back and forth over Harry’s spent cock.

“Zat so?  This don’t feel that old to me,” Eggsy smirks down at him, his teeth a glittering slash in the lights.  True to his statement, Harry is slowly hardening again under Eggsy’s careful ministrations.

“C’mon, bruv, we got a whole hour before your birthday ends.  We best be makin’ it good.  Ye also need to fuck me like we agreed.”

“Did we now?” Harry asks with a smooth raised brow.  He’s regained some of his composure and manages to keep from sounding quite so wrecked.

“Yeah, I had these plans where you’d fuck me and I’d have this great fuckin’ orgasm.”

“Sounds more like a present for you than for me,” Harry says.

Eggsy shrugs, “Your present’s the part where you get to cum again up my arse.”

He pauses a moment, his entire body going taut and still as he peers down at Harry.  His eyes go wide and innocent as he bites his lower lip.  He flutters his lashes and then says, coy as you please, “Ain’t it a  good enough present?”

Harry does laugh at that and then pulls Eggsy down smoothly for a kiss.

“I’ll have to receive my present to be absolutely sure.”

The smile that Eggsy gives him is positively wicked as he says, “Now that, birthday boy, I absolutely can fucking do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me @ ilokheimsins on tumblr!


End file.
